


Don't Dwell On It

by peterpan_in_neverland



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M, Swearing, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16248881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpan_in_neverland/pseuds/peterpan_in_neverland
Summary: This, is not a love story. It is based on the song Love Love Love by Of Monsters And Men. All lyrics are included in the song in bold. Some may be slightly altered to fit the storyline.





	Don't Dwell On It

You had been seeing Anthony for a few months now. 

****

Well,  _ seeing  _ wasn’t exactly the word. You’d never been on a date, he’d never kissed your cheek, or walked out of the theatre with you. He’d never held your hand or told you he loved you. 

****

So, really, you had been sleeping with Anthony for a few months now. 

****

The only other person in the world that knew was Phillipa. She had figured it out after she caught you hiding a small set of hickeys on your neck, and seen your phone light up with a message reading  _ meet me at my place tonight. Bring a condom _ from Anthony. 

****

Actually, she thought you were hiding a full relationship (hand holding, cheek kissing, dates, and  _ I love you _ ’s included). Purely, for the sake of your sanity and not wanting to mislead her, you told her the truth. 

****

As the months went on, Pippa began to get increasingly more annoyed with you. You could sense she was, but you couldn’t figure out why. You talked to her everyday, and you knew you hadn’t done anything to fully upset her. 

****

Then, one day, she exploded. You and her were at the theatre late, going over the choreography as Eliza— Pippa had a vacation planned next week, so you’d be in her role for the entire time she was gone. You had to get the part perfect. 

****

“I have to leave a little early,” you said, and Pippa pulled her eyebrows together a little, a gesture that you had learned meant  _ why _ , and the smaller the distance between her brows, the more question marks would go on the end of it. “I’m meeting Anthony at my place, and I don’t want him to have to wait on me.” 

****

She dropped her hands, the shoes she was holding slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the stage. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing?” She asked, and you looked at her, startled. 

****

“What?” 

****

“You’re ripping him to shreds,” she said, her face starting to turn a little red. She ran her fingers into her hair. 

****

“I’m—  _ what _ ?”

****

“He cares so much about you,” she said. Her hands had knitted into her hair, gripping, pulling at the roots, in a pose that you knew was her trying to pull her stress out of her skin. “You’ve used him for, what, six months now? You sleep with him, and you’re out of his apartment before the sun rises— or vice versa. You’ve never asked him anything about himself. You don’t know his favourite colour, where he grew up, his favourite bands. You just… you don’t care.” 

****

You had never known Pippa to be able to be rude— she was always unfailingly kind and sweet as candy. But this. This was cruel. This was like tearing off beautiful wallpaper to find rotten walls. 

****

But she wasn’t wrong. 

****

You didn’t know his favourite colour. You didn’t know where he grew up. You didn’t know his favourite bands. You’d never stood on the sidewalk and talked and you’d never laughed with him or stayed the night. You’d never watched the sun rise with him. 

****

“ **Well, maybe I am a crook for stealing his heart away** ,” you said. Actually, you weren’t sure if you were whispering or shouting or shrieking. “ **And, yeah, maybe I am a crook for not caring for it** —” 

****

“Not maybe. You are,” she interjected, and her eyes looked so much like fire that you could feel yourself burning. 

****

“ **Maybe I am a bad, bad, bad,** ” you took a deep breath, blowing it out through your teeth just to hear the soft whistle. “ **Bad person** .” 

****

“ **Well, baby, I know** ,” she said, and you squeezed your eyes shut. 

****

“I don’t love him,” you said. “And I shouldn’t have to because of the months around us.” 

****

“Then  _ fix what you have done _ ,” 

****

“How?”  _ How do I fix someone’s broken heart _ ? You thought. You wished you could curl up, pull your knees to your chest and lock your arms around your body like a chain. Like a safety rope. Like an unbreakable promise. 

****

“End it. End everything,” she said. “Or keep on breaking his heart.” 

****

——

****

You walked into your apartment, expecting it to be empty, but you jumped when you found Anthony there. 

****

“I forgot you were here,” you said, looking at him. He looked fully like an angel, with his tousled hair and toothy smile. “I— uh— I. I need to talk to you.” 

****

You hadn’t thought this through at all. What would you even say to him? That  **your fingertips won’t ever run over his skin** , or  **that his bright green eyes could only meet yours across a room, filled with people that are less important that him** ? But— he  _ wasn’t _ important to you, not in the way that the people you loved were, so why were you so concerned with hurting him? 

****

“I have to end this with you,” you saw him snap in front of you— his eyes lost their glow and his grin disappeared. 

****

“Why?” He sounded raw, and his voice sounded like wind.

****

“Because,” you said, and grappled at the air for words you couldn’t reach, couldn’t grab and hold onto.   **“You love, love, love, even when you know I can’t love you** ,” you blurted, and and he went from snapped to shattered. 

****

“I understand,” he said, before skirting past you. You heard your door slam shut, and you closed your eyes.

****

The gut feeling of realizing you’d made a mistake— the burn in your throat, the sound of glass shattering on loop repeating in your mind— overwhelmed you. 

****

You turned to your door, pushing it open. He was already gone, and probably already on the sidewalk, hailing a cab and going home. 

****

——

****

When you showed up at the theatre the next day, Pippa asked you with a single, silent look if you had gone through with it. You gave her a short nod, and she inclined her head quietly in response. 

****

You didn’t see Anthony all morning, and when you finally did, the room was crowded. 

****

His bright green eyes met yours across the room. 

****

He was the first to turn away. 

****

——

****

“He’s a mess,” you heard Pippa telling Renée and Jasmine, right as you walked into her dressing room. “I think I might’ve—” 

****

“Hi, Y/N,” Jasmine said, catching sight of you. She gave a small wave, and Pippa turned around quickly. 

****

“Y/N—” 

****

“You think you might’ve what, Phillipa?” You asked, before you could stop yourself. 

****

“I think I might’ve forgotten something at home,” she said carefully, and you narrowed your eyes at her. You didn’t believe her. “I’m gonna go get it after the first show.” 

****

“What’d you forget?” You asked, and you knew she was catching onto your disbelief. 

****

She was silent for a moment. “My laptop charger,” she said. “I have to go.” She got up and left, and you watched her go. 

****

She was lying. 

****

You turned back to Renée and Jasmine. “What’d she tell you?” You crossed your arms, and Renée rolled her lips in. 

****

“Anthony isn’t doing one-hundred percent fantastic,” she said, and you put your face in your hands. Not only had Pippa told them everything, but Anthony wasn’t alright. “Pippa thinks it has something to do with her… and I don’t know why. I don’t even know why he’s so upset.” 

****

You looked up from your palms. “What?” 

****

“She won’t tell us what she did that could make him so upset,” Jasmine filled in, and you made a face. “I mean, Pippa's the sweetest.” 

****

“Yeah,” you added, swallowing your guilt. “That’s— that's weird.” 

****

——

****

You carried on for the next few weeks, and as the weather got warmer, Anthony seemed to get better. He was smiling again, and looked at you once or twice without scowling. He had even told you that you did fantastic as Eliza during your first night on in her role. 

****

You called it progress, and moved on, happy. 

****

Then Pippa surprised you. 

****

“I’m sorry,” she said, stopping you in your dressing room during intermission. She had been back for a few days now, and just barely seemed to be getting back into the swing of things. 

****

“For?” You asked. 

****

“For everything,” said Pippa. “I screwed up,  _ bad _ . I hurt Anthony even though I wanted to protect him, and—” 

****

“What?” You looked around, then pulled her into your dressing room, closing and locking the door. “The hell are you talking about?” 

****

“I talked to Anthony, a little bit ago,” she said, knitting her fingers together. “He’s still really hurt and upset. Still raw.” 

****

Everything was backpedaling in your mind. You couldn’t believe that you thought he was doing better. 

****

“I’m sorry,” you said, on impulse. 

****

“No, you’re not,” she replied, putting her hands on your cheeks. “ _ I _ am.” 

****

——

****

There were only a few things in the world that could make you panic. Presidential elections, tax time, and anything about tests, just to name a few. 

****

But your parents calling was the biggest reason. 

****

Your phone had rang while you were at the theatre, brushing up some minour things in your regular choreography.

****

You picked it up after the third ring, and immediately regretted it. Your father was on the other end, going on and on about a cousins wedding that you had to come home for. 

****

“Maybe, while you’re here, you’ll develop some common sense and give up that ridiculous Broadway dream,” he said, and you almost threw your phone across the theatre. “You can never succeed, you know? Broadway is too good for you.” 

****

“Dad,” you managed. “I have to go. I’m at rehearsal.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth. 

****

“This late at night?” He said, cracking your cover in two. 

****

“Yes. It’s running late.” You replied, a last ditch effort to save your skin. He grumbled but seemed to believe you. 

****

“You better get your ass home for this wedding, Y/N. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret,” he hung up, and this time you gave into your urge; you threw your phone across the stage. It hit the curtains and fell to the floor, the screen shattering. You didn’t care. 

****

You sank to the ground, locking your arms around your knees, and squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even realize you were crying until you opened your eyes again, the world blurred from your tears. You didn’t want to move. 

****

“Y/N?” You squeezed your eyes closed again at hearing his voice say your name. You heard footsteps along the stage, and they stopped in front of you. “Are you crying?” 

****

Finally, you opened your eyes, barely looking up at Anthony. You focused on your shattered phone instead, and Anthony saw where you were looking at followed it. He walked over, picking it up. “What happened?” He asked, looking at you. 

****

You shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to say anything. 

****

Anthony pocketed your broken phone, and walked over to you. He held his hands out to you, and you hesitantly took them. He pulled you back to your feet slowly, and then you were collapsing against him. 

****

You sobbed into his shoulder, clutching onto the back of his sweatshirt, knotting your slim fingers into the soft material. He just held onto you, letting you cry. 

****

Finally, after what felt like hours but could’ve been a stretch of centuries to minutes, you pulled back. 

****

“Do you want me to take you home?” He asked, and you nodded, wiping your eyes with the flat of your palms. 

****

——

****

You had another breakdown in the cab, which you were sure frightened the driver, but Anthony managed to calm you down again. 

****

Finally, you made it home. You took a quick shower, trying to shed your skin of everything that had happened. 

****

You changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed. 

****

Anthony came in, and set a glass of water on your nightstand. “You doin’ okay?” He asked, and sat lightly on the edge of your bed. You didn’t move. 

****

“Not really.” 

****

_ Don’t make me do something you’ll regret  _ was still ringing in your ears. You didn’t think you could ever get the words out of your head, no matter how many showers you took. 

****

“Is,” he started. Stopped. Took a deep breath. Licked his lips. Swallowed his pride. “Is there anything I can do.” 

****

You moved your head, just enough that you were speaking over your shoulder. 

****

“Stay.” 

****

He processed what you said, then slid his shoes off, and laid on the edge of your bed. After a moment of thought, he pulled the covers back, and then pulled them up over his torso. 

****

Subconsciously— mechanically— you moved closer to him, and let his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. He smelled good, like rain and sandalwood. 

****

—-

****

Despite Anthony trying his hardest (humming to you softly, telling you to count sheep, and bringing you a glass of warm milk as a last ditch effort), you didn’t fall asleep until almost five in the morning, when you finally had nothing left to keep you awake. 

****

Anthony fell asleep after you did, and woke up before you. He slipped out of your bed carefully, and walked to your kitchen. He made some coffee. Did your dishes. Swept. Anything to keep him busy until you woke up. Until whatever it was that happened last night was over and ended. 

****

The scent of coffee must have woken you up, because you appeared in the kitchen. Your thick curls were in a thrown-together bun on the top of your head and your eyes were sleep-clouded. 

****

“I—um— I made coffee,” he said, and you half-smiled at him, taking the mug he offered you. 

****

You both stood in silence, you sipping your coffee and Anthony rubbing his hands up and down his jeans awkwardly. 

****

“Thank you,” you said, and held up the mug. “For the coffee.” 

****

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna go get my shoes.” He walked past you, grabbing his shoes from your room and putting them back on. 

****

He didn’t say anything to you as he put on his jacket, and you didn’t say anything to him as your rinsed your now empty coffee mug. 

****

“I should go,” he finally said, after watching you fix your hair. You nodded at him, and he grabbed the door, pulling it open. 

****

“Anthony, wait,” you said, rushing to the door and catching it before it could close. 

****

“Yeah?” He asked, standing in your hallway. 

****

“ **I think it’s best if we both forget** ,” you said. “ **Before we dwell on it** .” 

****

He looked you in the eyes, and this time he was cold. “Forget what, Y/N.  _ Dwell. On. What.”  _

****

It wasn't a question. And he was going to make you say it. Summarize what had happened in anyway you could. Tell the truth. 

****

“ **The way you held me so tight all through the night— ‘till it was near morning** ,” you said, and Anthony nodded at you viciously. 

****

“I figured,” he said. He took a breath, and his face cleared. “Goodbye.” He turned around and disappeared down the hallway. 

****

You closed the door, leaning against it and sliding down until you met the floor. You thought back to the reason you told him you couldn’t keep seeing him. 

 

**_He love love loves even when he knows you can’t love him._ **

****

He would have to accept that. 

****

He would have to move on. 


End file.
